Sandra Hill - [Jinx 03] by Wild Jinx

name wasn’t in that article. It might’ve been anyone.”
    She gave him one of her looks. At least she didn’t say “Puh-leeze!” Then she sighed deeply. “How am I ever gonna find you a gal when yer gallavantin’ around with scarlet wimmen?”
    Only Tante Lulu would refer to whores by that old-fashioned term.
    “I don’t want you findin’ me a
gal
. I can take care of that myself.”
    “Doan look ta me like yer doin’ such a good job. Gumbo doan make itself, ya know.”
    Whatever the hell that means.
    “By the way, I like that hair color on you. Sorta like Tab Hunter.”
    “Who’s Tab Hunter?”
    Ignoring his question, she went on, “Mebbe ya oughta let Charmaine do yer hair up proper.”
    Yep, the two of them are clones.
    “And now ya lost yer job,” she said with disgust.
    “I didn’t lose my job. It’s just suspended for a while, ’til things die down. Besides, aren’t you glad I’m here to help on the Pirate Project?”
    “Well, there is that.” Slowly, a smile broke the wrinkles on her aged face. “But I still say the thunderbolt is headin’ yer way.”
    After another hug, he went down to the stream where the other members of the Jinx team were still gazing at Useless, tossing him the occasional gingersnap or cheese doodle. To Yankees, gators were a marvel; to those living on the bayou, they were just everyday pests.
    “Hey, John. I’m so glad you’ll be able to join us.” That from Veronica Jinkowsky, owner of Jinx, Inc., the treasure hunting company she inherited a few years back from her grandfather Frank Jinkowsky. Ronnie was fascinated by, but keeping her distance from, Useless, even though the old gator was harmless. Well, fairly harmless, as long as he got his daily allotment of cheese doodles or gingersnaps.
    “Hey, it should be fun. Thanks for lettin’ me jump in this late in the game.”
And for givin’ me a hidin’ place.
    “Not so late. We haven’t started yet. Besides, having a local diver will be helpful.”
    “You again?” said Caleb Peachey, extending a hand to shake. He knew Caleb from two previous Jinx projects he’d been on. Caleb was an ex-Amish Navy SEAL. Talk about oxymorons!
    “You can’t get rid of me that easily. Where’s Claire?” Claire was Caleb’s wife.
    “She’s back in Pennsylvania, about to run her outdoor farm camp for children.” He rolled his eyes. Caleb had an aversion to farm life, thanks to his early years of hard work in a large Amish family, but Claire, some kind of fancy pancy historical archaeologist (which meant she obsessed over Indians), loved farms. Needless to say, they lived on a farm.
    Adam Famosa, a Cuban professor of oceanography at Rutgers University and a diving expert, was on his cell phone, probably talking to some woman. You could say that John and Adam had a little friendly personality conflict. The numbnuts was gonna love John’s discomfort over the Playpen incident.
    While Peach managed to overlook his appearance, Famosa glanced up at him and smirked. “LeDeux,” he said, shaking his head. That’s all he said, but he continued to smirk. A big ol’ Yankee jerk of a smirk.
    John shrugged and turned to Brenda Caslow, a former NASCAR mechanic, who had just arrived with her husband, Lance Caslow, a NASCAR driver. Lance would be leaving Brenda behind when he caught a plane later today for trial runs in Tennessee. NASCAR racing was big in the South. If Tante Lulu’s neighbors found out Lance Caslow was here, they would be mobbed.
    “Hey, buddy, I know what bad press is like,” Lance said, patting him on the shoulder. “Just lay low for a while.”
    John opened his mouth to protest, but gave up trying to convince them that the article wasn’t about him.
    “Hah! The difference in your bad publicity, dear,” Brenda told her husband, not so sweetly, “is it usually involved a front page photo of a bimbo sitting on your lap looking at you as if she’d like to lube your engine.”
    John laughed and Lance did his